Home

The ground was muddy; dirt and water mixed as one.

She didn't know where she was going-she didn't really care.

Heated form her argument earlier, she felt that the only cure was to keep walking.

Making her way through the muddy forest, at times slipping, her ears forgot to catch the sound of the birds singing.

Her eyes forgot to see the beauty around her that nature has made.

Oh, how blinding anger can be!

Anger steals at ones happiness, and gives a life no purpose to go on,

But to defeat your enemy and cast much pain on them as possible.

By the afternoon, the morning mud was now hard dirt with cracks split across in all directions.

Cracks that told her no lies; cracks that held no secrets.

Cracks that told her, "Go home. Go home!"

Looking up at the sky she recalled her last words, then spoke, saying, "If I must."

She began making her way home as the sky cried, "No, no, never!"

It opened up and let the tears fall. 

The dirt turned back to mud as she picked up her pace, falling.

One mistake she made on her way home; she put much trust on a dry root.

A lie it was and a hopeless light.

It broke her trust and watched as she fell, fell deep into the pit of death.

As she fell, she remembered his last words as he ran after her,

"Come home. Come home!"

He watched the rain in a sickening trans.

He continued to await her arrival as he remembered her last words,

"I'm never coming home!"